I Will Possess Your Heart
by Nikkel
Summary: Someone has been mysteriously sending Azula roses - be it during school, at home, or even in the most random of places, the bouquets show up without a sender. The question is, who is it? Modern AU.
1. Disgusting

**I Will Possess Your Heart**  
_By Nikkel_  
(c) to Nickelodean, Michael Dante DiMartino, and Bryan Konietzko

* * *

It was eighth period, Monday afternoon, when the first one arrived. At 2:16 PM, to be exact.

Professor Zei lectured to his advanced history class about the Great War, his notes up on the overhead and the lights shut off, gilding the students in a pale blue. He couldn't see past the front row, were the most attentive kids sat while everyone else slept or silently took notes, interest or no interest. Among this swell of teenagers was Azula, casually leaning back in her seat and already finished with copying the notes, cracking her cinnamon-flavored gum. In her hand was a slender black pen, scribing a note to Mai on the desk to her right.

_If you're really that desperate as to think to my brother for a dating choice_, she wrote, _then you may as well consider yourself as love sick as Katara._

Azula passed the note, and upon looking at it, Mai was at first insulted but then snickered, writing something back.

_At least I'm not like Ty Lee._

Azula smirked. Though she and Ty Lee were friends, the girl's promiscuity around Four Nations High was well-known, and not just among those that personally knew her.

_She's dating some freshman now. Disgusting._

It was after Azula had passed the note back did the classroom door open. In walked an aide carrying a bushel of scarlet roses, a note in his hand.

"Ah, and who might these be for?" Professor Zei said teasingly. "For me? You shouldn't have! Or is it some lucky lady?"

There was a soft rumble of laughter. The aide shrugged and looked at the note in his hand, replying, "It just says Azula."

"And there's only one Azula in the school!" Professor Zei exclaimed, and everyone burst into laughter. Azula frowned indignantly as the teacher accepted the roses and the aide left.

"There's more than one Azula in the school," she announced. "And I'm not _that_ one."

"Well, he _did_ say 'lucky lady'," Mai countered.

"Yeah," Ty Lee agreed on Azula's left. "And you're pretty lucky, Azula."

Professor Zei passed her the roses, but she laid them down on her desk as if touching them would invite the Grim Reaper. Yes, they were rather beautiful—deep, ruby-colored petals flourished around evergreen stems, like succulent strawberries ripe for the picking. The thorns had been left on, though, which she found peculiar. Who was—well, she wouldn't say _considerate_, for it's not as if she _enjoyed_ the delivery—_emotional _enough to have sent her a bouquet, but leave the thorns on? Whoever it was, they were impeccably stupid.

"Looks like you have a secret lover," Mai whispered. "Now you can't say _that's_ disgusting."

Azula rolled her eyes. "But it _is_. And I'm going to find out who did this."

"How do you plan on doing that?"

"Process of elimination. I'll examine every boy in this school until the perpetrator reveals himself."

"But what if the per. . . per. . ." Ty Lee struggled with the big word.

"Perpetrator," Mai filled in. "Azula makes every romantic gesture sound like a crime."

"Yeah, that word!" Ty Lee grinned. "Anyways, what if it's a girl?"

"If I were to be given roses from a girl, the only girl stupid enough to do that would be _you_, Ty Lee," Azula snapped.

"And _that_ would be disgusting," Mai added.

"But what's wrong with just getting some flowers? I bet they smell good." Ty Lee reached for the bouquet when Azula slapped her hand away.

"Don't touch them," she said sharply. "And there's plenty of things wrong with receiving flowers, _especially _roses. Receiving them implies that someone wishes for you to join them in a collaborative and often overdramatic relationship that serves no purpose other than the relief of adolescent hormones. In other words, something I'm not fond of, and _don't_ want to achieve."

"Ouch." Ty Lee made a face. "Harsh!"

Azula shrugged. "It's true, though. Why pursue a relationship if they're designed to fail?"

"Not all relationships are designed to fail, Azula," Mai said defensively.

"Mai, you haven't even asked him _out_, yet!" Azula replied and briefly threw her hands up in the air while Mai blushed a beet red. Ty Lee giggled and a couple of kids around them that had been eavesdropping in on their conversation buzzed humorously. Azula crossed her arms again. "So that means I'm going to find who sent these, but not for the means of a relationship."

"Not even a one-night stand?" Ty Lee joked, and Mai clapped a hand over her mouth while the eavesdroppers did their best to cover their laughter. Azula glared at her, manicured nails clenching the desktop. "Okay, okay. Sorry."

"_No_," Azula said sternly, speaking through gritted teeth. "Not for anything. I don't care how infatuated the fool is. His heart deserves to be broken."

"If it doesn't beat outta his chest first," Ty Lee replied.

"But what if you _do _end up liking him?" Mai asked quizzically.

"I highly _doubt_ that would happen," Azula answered. "And besides, for all I know, it's somebody's idea of a joke."

"Well," Ty Lee chirped. "It's a nice joke. I don't think roses are supposed to be bad. I wish I could get some."

"The sender left the thorns on."

"Oh. At least they look pretty."

The conversation ended there as Mai and Ty Lee turned back to the notes (well, Ty Lee returned to texting Li, her "disgusting freshman boyfriend", as Azula put it) while Azula went back to staring at the roses. They were bound by a silken gold ribbon in a delicate plastic and red-sparkled wrap, as if the roses themselves had not been the only things that needed tending, but the entire package. She faintly wondered if she could scan said wrap for fingerprints, as she was certain her father's laboratories could do for it certainly made the identity of the sender easier to narrow down or reveal altogether. The roses were also fresh, not like the withered carnations that most girls received on Valentine's Day (never mind that Valentine's was over a month ago), meaning that whoever had gotten the bouquet was either a gardener or knew someone with an attentive plant nursery. Roses were currently out of season.

The bell rang, and as if an electric current had run through them the entire class jumped up for the end of the day. Azula stood and placed her belongings in her messenger bag and grabbed the crimson bushel.

"Whatever happened to not touching them?" Mai said slyly, raising a brow. She, Azula, and Ty Lee shuffled out into the crowded hallway; a mass of students uniformed in red, blue, green, or yellow. Azula snorted.

"As much as I would like to leave them or drop them on the ground in front of me, they're evidence."

"Ooh. You're serious about this," Ty Lee cooed. Azula nodded.

"Oh, I'm very serious about this. I'm going to find out who it is."

A high-pitched whistling interrupted them and the three girls turned to see a group of boys clustered by a water fountain, jeering and pointing and clutching their sides in loud, cacophonous laughter.

"Hey Azula!" Zuko called. "Who're the flowers from, your new boyfriend?!"

"Whoa, I didn't know Azula was straight!" Jet exclaimed, clapping Zuko on the back. "I guess she's a backseat playa now!"

"It's either that," Sokka hollered, jumping up between Zuko and Jet, trying to be the loudest he could. "Or she's the one _driving the car_, if you know what I mean!"

"Wait, what's that mean?" Aang asked helplessly and tugged at Sokka's shirt, but since he was given no answer, burst into the childish and _extremely annoying_ chant of, "Azula's got a boyfriend! Azula's got a boyfriend!". Unfortunately, Teo, Duke, Li, Pipsqueak, Longshot (well, maybe not as much), and the rest of the boys joined them, which transitioned into…

"_Two lovers! Forbidden from one another! A war divides their people and a mountain divides them apart! Built a path together just like two birds of a feather! Even if you're lost you can't lose love because it's in your heart, ooooooh! SECRET TUNNEL! SECRET TUNNEL! THROUGH THE MOUNTAIN! SECRET TUNNEL_…"

Azula headed straight for the doors, escaping the band as much as she could, the melody filling the entire hallway.

"If the person is courteous enough to send you roses, I wonder if they'll serenade you at your window," Mai said. Azula huffed.

"And I'll be damned if it's any one of _them_."

* * *

**Author's Note:** This story has been inspired by a number of things:

One, my prom date (strictly a senior friend, searching for someone to take) said that he'd be willing to send me roses every class period of the day. I came to wondering what would happen if someone received those roses, but did not know who the sender was.

Two, I've been yearning to write a full-fledged AU. I've gotten my feet a little wet through a couple of oneshots. I've tried writing a couple others before, but they only got to be three chapters long, and I quickly ran into writer's block.

Thankfully, though, number three has been the leading inspiration of this thing - a new shipping, which is the star of this story. Of course, I can't reveal it. Then it wouldn't make this ficlet fun, now, would it?

And four, you may ask, the actual song "I Will Possess Your Heart" by Death Cab for Cutie? Possibly. The song itself is alluring and romantic. Kinda dark. I struggled for a good title, but this one works for what I have in mind.


	2. Crime Scene Investigation

**I Will Possess Your Heart**  
_By Nikkel_  
(c) to Nickelodeon, Michael Dante DiMartino, and Bryan Konietzko

* * *

When it came to mornings, Ozai Hamill had established for himself a standard routine. He would rise from his bed, take a long shower in his master bathroom, shave (carefully around his goatee, of course), dress his uniform of the day (be it Giorgio Armani, Jay Kos, or Canali—he had a different suit for every day), check his belongings, and then head downstairs for breakfast twenty minutes before he left for work. Usually he ordered the maid to make some toast and eggs with coffee, but this morning he simply decided that a piping hot cup of coffee would get him going for the day. The maid set the mug on the dining room table, where he appropriately sat, like always. He checked his BlackBerry before unfolding the day's newspaper, flipping to the financial section immediately.

The director of Phoenix Industries in Avatar City did not get past the first article of the paper when he realized that something was. . . off. He went over his routine in his head, wondering if he had forgotten to do something, but that was not it. He thought of his belongings: his identification tag was clipped to his breast pocket, his laptop in its briefcase, his tie, his BlackBerry, his various paperwork he needed for the day, and his good pair of shoes on. Perhaps it wasn't him, then. Ozai took a sip of his black coffee, setting the newspaper down. Zuko, in periwinkle blue turtleduck boxers, was making himself a cup of tea. Ozai sighed.

"When are you going to start drinking coffee, boy?"

Zuko turned around and shrugged, cradling his tea carefully. "I've told you. I don't like coffee."

"It's a man's drink. You should enjoy it." Ozai took a large gulp from his mug. "Your sister drinks it."

"So?"

"You should drink it too."

Zuko shrugged again and was about to leave the kitchen when his father's words pulled him back.

"Wait. Do you notice anything. . . _different_?"

Zuko took a quick sweep of the room. Everything seemed to be in place and clean as a whistle, as it always was in the Hamill household. He sipped his jasmine-flavored tea. "Not really."

"Hmph." Ozai was not satisfied. Zuko looked at him and Ozai scowled. "You can go now."

Zuko nodded and ducked out of the kitchen, trading places with Azula as she walked through the doorway. Like her father, she was already showered and dressed, heading for the coffee pot.

"Azula," Ozai called, and she turned, coffee (black, as his was) mug in hand. "Do you notice anything different about the kitchen?"

As her brother had, she looked around. At first there was nothing out of the ordinary, but then her gaze locked onto the bouquet of roses she had received the day before. They were standing in a clear, watery vase.

"Are you referring to the roses?" she asked, motioning toward the vase, which was sitting right in front of Ozai.

"Oh, that's what it is," he said, finally glad to have his question answered. "Who are they from? You're not the sort to collect flowers, Azula."

"They're from some boy."

Ozai lowered his head incredulously at her, peering over the frames of his rectangle, wire-rimmed reading glasses. "_Boy_?" He practically spat the word. "Is it a _boy_ that _I _should know about?"

"Father, I don't even know who they're from."

"What do you mean?"

"They were sent anonymously."

"Hmm." Ozai took a long, thoughtful sip of his coffee, draining it. He too, stared at the roses, yellow eyes then flashing to his daughter's. "Well you know that if you ever date this boy— whoever he is— needs _my_ approval."

"Yes, Father. I wouldn't count on meeting him any time soon. He's a coward if he doesn't reveal himself."

"All right then." Ozai returned to his newspaper, and Azula wandered into the living room and sat down next to Zuko. She propped her feet up on the table while they watched the morning news—something about the Middle-Eastern Nomadic Genocide and the spread of the Pentapox Virus; within the hour, both siblings were ready to leave.

Azula walked out the front door, heading to her blazing-red Corvette, when there was a crunching noise beneath her foot. Upon looking down, she lifted her shoe away to find another bouquet of perfectly-wrapped roses. She bent down and picked up the small, stationary card attached to it.

_What's in a name? That which we call a rose, By any other name would smell as sweet._

She stared at it. What was the point to it? She quickly looked around, hoping to see a shuffling in the bushes or someone run into the neighbor's yard, but there was no such person. Azula stood there, uncertain of what she was supposed to make of this. Obviously, a portion of her was thoroughly irked by the melodramatic present. Did this bouquet, on her front doorstep, mean that she would be receiving more? Agni, that was just plain annoying. But she picked up the roses and walked back inside. The first bushel already took up the entire vase, so she grabbed another and placed it on the living room table. The petals seemed to sparkle in the sunlight.

She didn't dwell on their beauty for long, though. It was the boy behind the flowers that she had to focus on. If anything, this new bouquet offered more evidence.

Azula left the house and dialed Mai on her cell phone as she drove down the sunny Dragon Boulevard.

"_Mmrph_?" Mai answered, obviously still in bed. She was always sleeping in late.

"Get up," Azula ordered. Mai grunted. "I need you at the front of the school in five minutes."

"Why?" Mai croaked, and Azula could hear her staggering out of bed to brush her teeth.

"Another one was on my doorstep this morning."

"Another one what?"

Mai was so useless in the morning. Azula bit her lip and said in a voice that seemed to pain her, "Another bouquet."

"Huh. Stalkers. Find out who they're from yet?"

"No." She didn't want to mentioned the card, which was now safely located in her pocket. She would search for a store later that sold the specific kind and question the workers. "But I did some research last night and classified people into categories as to who is most likely the person behind this."

"You're so OCD."

"At least it'll be easier to find out who it is."

Azula hung up, and with another five minutes arrived in the student parking lot of Four Nations High. She owned a pass that allowed her to park up front between a high-class Honda Civic and cobalt Lamborghini. Messenger bag over her shoulder, she crossed the spritely green lawn to Ty Lee, who balanced precariously on the cement sign etched with the school's name. Azula looked up at her.

"Cut that out. You look like a child. You'll fall."

"No I wont, I got perfect balance!" Ty Lee grinned and stood on her hands, black skirt falling to reveal her pink cotton underwear to the world, legs sticking up in the air. Catcalls and whistles ensued, and Azula shoved her over, knocking her to the ground. "Hey, I was just doing a handstand!"

"You know, I'm finding it increasingly difficult to believe that you still have your virginity," Azula commented, leaning up against the sign. Ty Lee jumped back over and smiled coyly.

"Maybe."

Azula raised an eyebrow. "Maybe? To that… that _freshman_?"

"Li? Oh no, I broke up with him last night. Now I'm with Lee."

"Is there any difference?"

"There's a whole name-spelling difference!"

"Because that is _so_ huge."

"They're two entirely different people, Azula!"

"Whatever. Mai's here."

"This investigation thing better be important," Mai growled, hung over with sleep. "You know I hate waking up early."

"All right, here's the deal." Azula dug for a folder in her bag and handed her companions each a thick packet of paper. "Those are the names of all suspected males in the school, staff included. It reports their ID numbers, extra-curricular activities, and study hall periods. I've split them up into three distinct groups, which we will each take charge of. We are to question and examine each and every one by any means necessary."

"You did all of this last night?" Mai asked, eyebrows jumping up into the straight line of her bangs, thoroughly surprised. "_How_?"

"My father's computer is a very powerful machine. And, one has to say that Professor Zei isn't the most wary of his belongings, especially his ID complete with password to the school's network."

"Geez Azula! There's gotta be at least a thousand names on this!" Ty Lee exclaimed, flipping through the seemingly-endless packet.

"There are 5367 students in the school," Azula stated, as if reciting a well-known fact. "2364 of them are boys, and 21 of them are gay or assumed to be, leaving an estimated ratio of 2343, with 328 in the junior class alone."

"I was right," Mai sighed. "You are going off the deep end with this one."

"It's really not that bad, Mai," Azula replied, looking from her list of names to the various boys on campus before them.

Ty Lee balanced on the sign again. "How do we know if when we ask them they aren't lying?"

"If they seem suspicious, report them straight to me. I'll take it from there."

"_Two lovers! Forbidden from one another! SECRET TUNNEL! SECRET TUNNEL!_"

The tune echoed across the lawn as the familiar group of boys paraded with their arms around one another's shoulders like drunks. Azula quickly replaced her list in her bag, a determined expression taking over her features. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and straightened her school tie.

"I have some business to take care of, ladies," Azula proclaimed, and strode over to the group. Ty Lee stood on her hands again, her underwear showing for the entire world again.

"Do you think we should follow her?" she asked.

"Nope. If she wants to search for an invisible man, let her," Mai replied, and pushed Ty Lee off the sign.

Azula walked primly over to the group of boys, who had just ended their chorus. They all turned on her approach.

"Good morning, boys," she said rather smugly, and was greeted back with a couple of head nods or "hey"s. "Tell me, which one of you is it? I promise I won't burn your house down."

"I didn't do it!" Aang cried, and the circle roared with laughter.

"I could always burn them _all _down."

This caught Sokka's attention. "Say what now? You're gonna burn something? Because that makes you smokin' HOT!"

Again, more laughter. Azula's expression did not change, and a familiar, mischievous grin stretched along her lips.

"All right then," she sighed, inspecting her nails. "I guess you'll never find out which one of you I like."

It was a straight, flat-out lie, and they all fell for it like starved flies to honey.

"Who wait what?" Jet said, immediately shoving his face into hers. "It's me, ain't it? I knew you would fall for me! You can't resist this gorgeous mug!"

"I feel like I'm talking to a hog monkey," Azula growled in disgust, upper lip curling and pushing Jet's face away.

"What happens to the person if they're the one you like?" asked Haru, who had been strangely quiet since she had approached.

"One could say that they would be receiving a little 'special treatment'," she said in an answer to Haru's question.

"Whoa! I'm down for that, baby!" Sokka shouted. "Hey, if that crush is me, I'll worship you if we get to have amazing se—"

"Be a little considerate, Sokka!" Aang piped up. "I mean, she _is_ a lady. They like to be respected."

"Then maybe _you're_ the secret lover!" Sokka whirled on Aang, stabbing a finger at his chest.

"Wh-What me?! No!" the freshman stumbled, hands up in defense.

"Hold up," Azula interrupted. "You mean that none of you know who it is?"

The guys shook their heads, face innocent. Well, that was peculiar. She expected at least one of them to be fidgeting or looking nervous, trying hard not to squeal, but no. The only conclusion was that one of them was lying.

"Man, am I glad I'm not a part of this," Zuko chuckled, shaking his head. Azula glared at him.

"Oh gross, incest!" Jet cried, and the testosterone-filled chaos resumed. Thankfully, the bell rang, and Azula took it as an excuse to walk inside with Mai and Ty Lee. They had already started on their lists. But unlike them, Azula had a head start.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Huh. I think now would be an appropriate time to say that this story contains "suggestive themes", if you couldn't tell by Sokka's comments. Come on, it's a teenage fic! To not say that these things are heard in the hallways would be a lie. And you know, updating this story was actually the highlight of my day. Because mondays suck.

Oh. And a special thanks to TrueThinker and her awesome way of devising last names for the Avatar characters. Because I find it genius.


	3. Surprise, Surprise

* * *

**I Will Possess Your Heart**  
_By Nikkel_  
(c) to Nickelodeon, Michael Dante DiMartino, and Bryan Konietzko

* * *

A third bouquet arrived during fifth period lunch. It came out of the sky, too.

Four Nations High was an enormous school, but could not possibly contain the entire student body in a single, confined cafeteria. Teens grabbed their meals or brought their own, heading out for the sunny courtyard. Zuko, Aang, Sokka, Haru, and Jet piled into their usual table next to the trash cans. It was the only spot they could be at when they wanted to goof off as much as possible.

"So then I was like, how cold is it?" Sokka exclaimed, apparently telling a story from his chemistry class. "And then Jet was like—"

"_Ice, ice baby_!"

"Hey Haru, we didn't have any homework in Chinese, did we?" Aang asked, ignoring his two friends completely and munching on his peanut butter sandwich. Haru poked at his bean puff, the day's hot lunch.

"Um, I don't think so. . ." he replied, opening his milk carton and drinking it. Zuko nearly snorted mashed potatoes out of his nose, and Sokka and Jet followed as Haru looked around innocently saying, "What? What is it?"

"Dude, it looks like you got a mustache!" Sokka yelled, and Haru turned helplessly to Aang, who was snickering into his napkin.

"C'mon," Jet said, grinning mischievously. "You gotta do the tongue thing to get it off. C'mon."

"Okay, fine," Haru sighed. He lowered his head, eyes focused ahead, stuck his tongue out, and seductively licked the white milk off his upper lip and said, "Oh baby, I love it when you cum in my mouth."

"Agni, that's gotta be the best impression yet!" Sokka roared as the rest of the boys banged their fists on the table and stamped their feet. Their cajoling was cut short, though, as there was a significant disruption on the other side of the courtyard. They turned around to find that Azula was standing, hands on her hips, whilst holding yet another bouquet of roses. Silence settled like an infectious plague.

"_Who is it_?!" Azula demanded.

"Who is what?" some freshman asked, and Azula snapped at him, face distorted in utter rage. She shoved the thorny red bushel at him.

"_This!_ You know who sent it?!"

The freshman was practically cowering beneath the lunch table. Tears dotted the corners of his eyes. "N-n-no m-ma'am!"

"Well you see these? Do you know where they came from?"

The freshman shook his head meekly.

"_They fell from the sky!_"

And with a venomous spite she threw the roses on the asphalt and swiftly turned her back on the courtyard. It took about a minute for the general murmur of teenage voice to resume.

"What a crazy bitch," Jet muttered, and examined a pear Haru's hot lunch.

"Tell me about it," Zuko sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, we know," Sokka interjected. "You gotta _live _with her."

"Ugh. And this whole rose thing is just gonna make it worse."

They all looked at one another. Before they could let the accusations fly, Haru and Aang physically shrank into their seats.

"Oh no," Haru groaned.

"Crap!" Aang squeaked.

"Hello again, boys."

Zuko, Sokka, and Jet cringed at the voice behind them. As if they had rigor mortis, they difficultly turned around, smiles plastic and hands waved in uncomfortable greeting. Through clenched teeth they all said, "Hi, Azula."

"Well, that's a better greeting than last time," she replied, crossing her arms. Mai and Ty Lee stood next to her, going over their lists. They were only through the first two pages; not even a hundred names yet. "Since the sender had deemed himself a coward, picking you off one by one would be ideal."

"Yeah, but we could be lying," Jet refuted. He just couldn't keep his big mouth shut.

"Did I ask _you_?!" Azula snarled with a glare that pierced through his soul. A chesire grin parted her lips. "Now, who wants to go first?"

None of them moved. A breeze wafted through and Azula tapped her foot, impatient. Finally, Aang sighed and said, "How do you even know it's one of us? I mean, there are hundreds of guys in the school. We don't know who it is either."

Azula's amber eyes lit up at his comment. She walked around the table and laid a hand on his shoulder, clicking her tongue. "Come with me, Aang," she said curtly.

"Wh-What are you gonna do with me?" the freshman stammered. Azula's manicured thumbnail pressed into the flesh of his cheek.

"Nothing. I merely want to ask you a number of questions," she replied.

"No way!" Sokka stood up righteously. "You're not getting him without a fight."

Azula rolled her eyes. "I'm not _looking_ for a fight, genius."

Zuko stood up and tugged on Sokka's shoulder. "Just let them go. Aang will be back."

"Why thank you, Zuzu," Azula snickered. Zuko blushed and cursed. Sokka glared hard at her, but it was like trying to stare down a cat—it wasn't effective.

"Fine," he spat. "But beat him up and I'll kill you."

Azula laughed. "I look forward to it. Mai, Ty Lee—watch them. Monitor their conversation. You know what to do."

"What happens if they don't?" Haru asked as Aang reluctantly stood up, his shoulder still commandeered by Azula. There was a clicking noise, and the boys looked over at Mai, who balanced a six-inch stiletto on the point of her finger.

"Don't worry," Mai replied. "Behave and we'll be on good terms."

"Then everything's set," Azula concluded. "Let's go, freshman."

Aang waved and smiled weakly. "Toodles!"

And thus Azula dragged him across the lawn and around a brick corner, where they would be out-of-sight from the rest of the courtyard. Aang was unfortunately being the one against the wall. He gulped.

"So spill, Aang Eisen," Azula ordered, standing only about two feet away, her arms crossed.

"Listen, I really don't know who it is," Aang said truthfully, his voice gripped with fear. Sweat coated his brow, and he pulled at his brown tie uncomfortably. "I mean, I wouldn't lie to you if I knew, but I don't, so I can't really tell you anything because I don't know who it is and even if I did know I would tell you because you're kinda scary and oh man please don't beat me up I don't want to—um. Why are you staring at me like that?"

But Azula wasn't staring. She was analyzing, studying the boy's terrified posture and shaking limbs. He was young—too young—and clearly too emotionally unstable to come with such clever plans. She wouldn't have been surprised if he was peeing in his pants right now. She considered the respect he had for her, but it was most likely coming from his fear. And that was nothing new.

She sighed disappointingly. Aang was a nerd. A goody two-shoes. A _freshman_. He wasn't the secret admirer.

"I swear it's not me," Aang repeated for the millionth time.

"I know," Azula said coldly.

"But if I hear anything I'll let you—"

"I don't need any help!"

Aang recoiled at her flash of anger. He skedaddled back to the lunch table. Azula quietly returned, motioning for Mai and Ty Lee to follow. The boys leaned toward Aang, looking at him in awe, as if he had just survived a most ferocious and bloody battle unscathed.

"So what did she say to you?" Zuko asked.

"Nothing different from what she was saying before," Aang explained. "I guess she's looking for a confession. But she did this creepy stare thing." He shuddered. "It was freaky. And not in the good way."

"Hey," Jet held up his hands innocently. "My mind is clean for once."

"Jet, your mind is never clean," Haru commented, and Jet rolled his eyes, shrugging.

"Yeah, you're right."

"But seriously guys," Aang continued. "If one of you is sending the roses, you should stop. It's not nice."

Zuko shrugged. "I don't know. If she's going crazy over this, I find it pretty funny. It's like torturing her."

"I thought you were saying that we leave her alone," Sokka inquired. A sly smile replicating his sister's crawled onto Zuko's face.

"I came up with a couple of ideas that make it enjoyable. Care to hear them?"

And for the rest of the lunch period and school day the boys converged as much as they could, exchanging wickedly plots and devious pranks that just waited to be pulled. The one they decided on in the end would drive Azula's temper through to the moon and explode it.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Told you this story had "suggestive themes". Maybe I should have said "crude humor" instead. . . Anyways. It looks like Aangzula is out now - sorry Quartermass, your ship is sunk. Looks like you're gonna have to board another!


	4. You Don't Know

**I Will Possess Your Heart**  
_By Nikkel_  
(c) to Nickelodeon, Michael Dante DiMartino, and Bryan Koneitzko

* * *

Even Ozai had to admit that Azula's growing obsession was a little strange. Maybe not disturbing, but still strange. And that was saying something, coming from him.

He drank his coffee, watching as his daughter sat at the table, hunched over three stationary cards spread out in a row before her. Her hands were clasped underneath her chin, her lips were pursed, and her jaw was tight. Her coffee was growing cold. Ozai glanced at the vase of roses at the center of the mahogany table. Yes, he understood obsession, but hardly a lick of teenage drama, much less romance.

"So. . ." Ozai cleared his throat, breaking the silence. While they usually didn't talk in the first place, Azula's behavior was quite intriguing. "You find out anything about this boy yet?"

"Somewhat," Azula replied shortly. She flipped the three cards over, observing their backsides. They were not identical. "Mai and Ty Lee are going through the list, but I believe I know who to target."

"And who would that be?"

"It's either Haru, Jet, or Sokka. I eliminated Aang yesterday."

Ozai's eyebrows raised slightly. He had no idea that his daughter knew so many boys _personally_. "So which one is it?" he asked, a slight edge to his voice.

"I'm not certain, but I planned on going to a number of card shops tonight to investigate."

"Azula, they're _stationary _cards. You can get them anyw—"

"The back says 'Hallmark'."

"Oh. But it's not like he'd be returning to the shop. He probably bought them all in a package. And besides, that place is so _low-class._"

"Can you think of any other card shops?"

Ozai actually thought about it. "Well, no, but—"

"He left the price sticker on them. Idiot. Each card is individually worth fifteen dollars."

"Huh. Then maybe that place isn't so low-class. . ."

"Anyways, Father, I've got to run," Azula announced, brushing the cards into her bag. "I have to see if there's another bouquet in my car."

"I thought you parked in the garage last night."

"I did. But you never know."

"Smart girl. Make sure you catch the stalker before he catches you."

Azula rolled her eyes. "If anything, Iknow more about _him_ then he does about _me_."

Ozai shrugged. "Just be careful."

Azula walked into the garage. There sat the Corvette, bouquet-less and rose-less. There wasn't a sign of them. That was a relief. She could get on with life. Now if only they weren't sent to her throughout the day.

Entering school was no big deal. No roses came first or second period, but Azula noticed something different anyways. Though she was used to the scowls girls gave her ("Jealous" was the term which applied to these scowls) or the lingering gaze of boys (they whispered that she was hot, of course, but her personality wasn't really dating material) in the hallways, the general crowd was. . . well, giggling and blushing. But what about?

As she headed for third period Calculus class, she found out. A boy she didn't even know walked past. But it wasn't him that astounded her, but what was spray-painted onto the front and back of his shirt:

_Azula Hamill, will you go out with me?_

She wanted to explode on the boy right then and there. She didn't care if he was the secret lover, he deserved to be murdered for such public humiliation! But the boy was not alone, for another and another passed with similar shirts and different Houses, until Azula felt as if she were trapped in a swarm of them. Fury built up inside her and she shoved through the crowd to get to third period. She sat closest to the door, as always, and sank low into the seat. There were a couple of boys in the class with the shirts. She did _not_ want to walk in front of them.

The clock ticked by, and for a while Azula's head was preoccupied with nothing but derivatives and integrals. But that only lasted 21 minutes into the period. There was a knock on the door, and an aide walked in with a bushel of roses. Azula threw down her pencil and covered her face with a hand, her other extending out.

"Just give them here," she muttered, eyes closed in annoyance. "I know they're for me."

The class snickered as the aide handed her the roses. She laid them down on her desk, not looking at them and ignoring the laughter. There was no way she was going to focus on calculus now. But she wouldn't touch the roses. Yet, another part of her mind was amply curious about the card. It might hold a source of information, however little it was. She opened it.

_Yes, Azula Hamill, this is my revenge. You threw the roses on the ground yesterday. I'm glad you took the card, though :)_

The second time that day she wanted to explode. How… how _infuriating_! How _dare _he! What gave this nameless _fool _the right to take revenge on her?! Not to mention that the whole shirt ordeal was undeniably clever, but _still._ It was bold and humiliating. She hated it.

The moment the bell rang, Azula snatched the roses and bolted for her locker. She shoved the bouquet inside, thankful that her secret admirer hadn't figured out her combination or broken the lock. She did _not_ want a ton of flowers and lovey-dovey notes falling on her when she opened it.

It didn't help that she received another bouquet during fourth and fifth period either. For fifth period an aide delivered them, setting them down at the end of the table. Azula didn't even look up, her nails drilling at the wooden table, forcibly distracting herself.

"At least they didn't fall out of the sky like yesterday," Ty Lee stated cheerfully. Azula glared at her.

"You're not going to talk to the boys today?" Mai asked, surprised that Azula wasn't blowing her head off like she had the day before.

"It's not worth it." Azula glanced at the lunch table on the other side of the courtyard. Zuko, Sokka, Jet, Aang, and Haru were all wearing the shirts she so despised. She had expected the parapros to attack them with the dress code, but no such luck.

"You have to admit, though," Mai said. "It is pretty funny. It rivals a senior prank."

Ty Lee gasped. "Maybe it _is_ the senior prank!"

"_Don't you two have lists to attend to_?!" Azula snapped, and Ty Lee flinched back to her packet of names. Mai sighed exasperatedly and picked up her list, touring the courtyard for interviews. Azula just waited for the day to end.

Even during sixth period gym, she got roses. They were in the locker room when she returned from a vigorous game of kuai ball. How _that_ had been managed, she didn't know, but didn't care much after seventh and eighth periods, where more bouquets arrived. The cards weren't even that significant.

_I had some other ideas, but this shirt thing is the best. You should totally wear one._

_You know, why don't you ever eat anything for lunch? I mean, I know you're on a diet, but you don't need to be. You're beautiful._

_Just looking at you makes me "thorny". Get it?_

_Azula Hamill, you may be a bitch, but tie a leash around my neck and I'm all yours._

_O, my love's like a red, red rose That's newly sprung in June._

By the time she was in her car at the end of the day, Azula didn't even know if she _wanted_ to go to the Hallmark store. The place was low-class, as her father had mentioned, and she didn't want to humiliate herself further.

No. She would go. She would catch him in the act of buying the cards. Package or not, he must have run out by now. Azula raced out of the parking lot, practically speeding through the stoplight and around the street corners, one of the fastest (and not to mention most dangerous) drivers on the road. She raced through the suburbs to the other side of town, flying past various Walmart stores and Cabbage King restaurants. She swerved a sharp right, tires skidding on the pavement, following the directions of the GPS in the dashboard. The sun was setting by the time she arrived at the Hallmark shop, stealing a parking spot in front before any one else could get it.

Really, she wouldn't get caught _dead_ in a place like this. It was so… _average_ and _cheap_, and a fifteen dollar card didn't make a difference. Much to her annoyance the door dinged a bell when she walked in, making a rather ugly-looking clerk in a bright yellow sundress smile and wave at her. Agni, Azula was glad she had sunglasses on. If she was recognized, her whole reputation may as well go down the toilet. A quick tour around the store revealed that it was overstocked with fruity cards, Beanie Babies, and balloons. Unfortunately, the location of the fifteen-dollar-cards was not found. She had to walk up to the sundressed-clerk at the counter.

"Hi, how may I help you?" the girl asked. Her voice was rough. Like she was a bad smoker. Azula cleared her throat and adjusted her sunglasses to make sure the girl couldn't see her eyes.

"I was wondering if you've seen anyone as of late," Azula replied in a lower, very un-Azula-like voice. She had been an actress in the school play the previous semester—not that she needed a stage to act, it came as talent. "They've been purchasing these cards."

She handed the clerk one of the cards. Azula pulled up on her uniform collar, hoping to hide her face more. The girl didn't seem to notice, taking the card and inspecting it.

"This is pretty romantic. Who's it from?"

"That's _exactly_ what I came here to find out." That was annoying. Why _else _would she be here? The clerk flipped the card over a couple of times, thinking back, a thumb resting on her chin. Azula grew impatient. "So do you know who bought this or not?"

"You see, these are special-order cards," the girl explained. "You get them online."

"Oh."

"But I remember this boy came in here the other day picking up a shipment of them."

"What did he look like?" Azula dropped her guard, nearly lunging over the counter. The clerk didn't seem at all phased.

"He was certainly handsome, for one," the girl giggled. "He was a little on the tall side. Dark eyes. Dark hair. Kinda tan, too. Absolutely _gorgeous_ smile, he had me blushing the entire time he was picking up the order."

Something awful twisted inside Azula's gut. "Do you know who he was? You must keep a record or something for online shipments."

"Sorry, but I don't have access to that. Only the manager does."

"May I speak to the manager then?"

"She's not here at the moment. She's on vacation in Omashu."

Azula recoiled. She quickly stuffed the card back into her bag. "Thank you. That's all I needed."

She headed out of the store as quickly as she had come in. Azula sat down in the convertible, finally satisfied that she had some kind of answer. Perhaps she could go through the yearbook tonight and eliminate whichever boy had light hair and light eyes, in addition to the lists that Mai and Ty Lee were going through for her. Tall, dark, and handsome was her secret admirer—if he looked good, maybe she wouldn't complain, but the entire rose-ordeal was a little much. Azula leaned back in her seat, contemplating the idea of a "boyfriend". Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

She smacked herself on the forehead. That was so stupid!

A thought had occurred to her—almost _every_ boy in the school had dark hair and dark eyes! Haru, Jet, Sokka (he had dark blue eyes, if Azula recalled correctly) . . . they all had those features! And thinking about a boyfriend? One of _them_? No! Out of frustration she punched the horn in the steering wheel, startling several customers inside the store. That would be the last time that she would let her stupidity get the best of her.

Or maybe it wasn't Haru, Jet, or Sokka. Maybe it was someone more popular, more intelligent, more. . . A pleasant smile came to Azula's lips, her anger fading away. She had nearly forgotten about the boy that had pestered her during freshman year, always flexing his muscles and promising her diamond rings. Not to mention that he did have a _gorgeous_ smile—pearly white and shining like the sun.

Azula started the car up and drove home, no longer speeding. Instead, she enjoyed the drive, a name calmly circulating through her head, over and over again.

_Chan Detten._

_

* * *

_

**Author's Note: **Haha, I love opening up a scene with overprotective!Ozai. Call it a running gag. And the prank? Inspired by this one random guy in the hallway at school that was asking this girl to prom. Awesomesauce. And then ZOMG CHAN!!!11!! CHANZULA!!! (Don't be totally discouraged, though. . . there's more to come).


	5. Azula and Her Social Skills

**I Will Possess Your Heart**  
_By Nikkel_  
(c) to Nickelodeon, Michael Dante DiMartino, and Bryan Koneitzko

* * *

Ozai Hamill's coffee cup actually jumped when his daughter slammed the yearbook down on the table. He frowned, setting down his newspaper, eyes scrutinizing as to what Azula was doing. She flipped through the yearbook's pages until she came to the one she desired, quickly found a name and photo, and shoved it towards her father. He stared at the image.

"That's him," Azula announced proudly, leaning back and crossing her arms. "He's the one that's been sending me roses."

"Chan Detten," Ozai read the name thoughtfully, cautiously. "He sounds familiar."

"I believe his father works for the Industries. I suspect you know him?"

"Detten. . . Detten. . . Oh yes, _him_. He works down in protocol, last I checked. Good worker. Wealthy family."

Azula waited for something more. One could never take Ozai's opinion for granted—finally, he pushed the yearbook back towards her, taking a generous sip of coffee. "You have my permission."

"Thank you, Father." Normal families would have hugged at such a moment, but not these two Hamills. Instead, Azula closed the yearbook and nodded at the house maid to replace it in the library upstairs. Without even so much as a goodbye Azula departed out to her car, calling Mai on her iPhone as she strolled down the sidewalk.

"_Mmrph_?" was Mai's grunted reply. She was still in bed.

"I have important news," Azula informed sharply. "I'll be telling you shortly. I'm going to pick you up. Be ready."

"Please don't tell me it's about this boy again."

"Actually, it is."

"Great."

Azula did the same for Ty Lee, who squealed at the "important news". When Azula hung up on them both she was smiling as the Chesire Cat would, confident and excited for the day's events. _Chan Detten_. Who would have thought the he would have gone to such romantic lengths to impress _her_? And the most astounding thing of all, it had _worked_. Now, if it was any other boy. . . things might not have been the same.

A single rose was wreathed into the steering wheel when she sat down in the convertible. For once, she wasn't angry upon seeing it. To think that Chan had driven all this way to leave it for her—he certainly had conviction. Like all of the other roses, there was a note. Azula carefully untied the gold ribbon from the stem, setting the rose in her lap.

_I'm sorry about yesterday. Your thorns are sharp and they make me bleed. I'm sorry._

The thought of Chan froze in her mind. Not that the sender wasn't him, but—what? She felt almost _sympathetic_ for him. . . well, perhaps she did owe him something for his troubles. Azula replaced that trifling feeling with sureness. Chan may be mad at her now, but she would fix that the moment she stepped on campus. He would have no idea what was coming to him.

She grinned wickedly at her plan, and drove at top speed to Mai and Ty Lee's houses. Dragon Boulevard was the central street that all of Avatar City's high-class residents lived on (and most of Phoenix Industries employers), so it did not take long. She passed the Detten's house—Chan's bright orange Hummer was already gone. Damn. If he had been there, she could have approached him one-on-one. No, they needed an audience. The whole school would have to know that they would be dating.

Mai sat in the passenger seat and Ty Lee in the back, while Azula pulled out of the driveway with vigorous force. Mai clutched her seatbelt, sunglasses practically flying off her head as Azula drove. "I swear you're going to get killed driving like this."

Ty Lee didn't mind the danger, leaning over the black leather seat without a seatbelt. She turned to Azula, wild brown hair whipping in the wind. "So tell us!" she yelled over the radio (some catchy 3OH!3 song), scooting close to Azula. "Who is it?!"

"It's Chan Detten!" Azula shouted back. Ty Lee's mouth gaped, and she slapped an acrylic-nailed hand to it.

"_No_! _Chan_?! Azula, he's like, a _senior_, and like, a total _hunk_!"

Azula leaned smugly back in her seat, easing onto the accelerator more and more. "I _know_. Isn't it grand?"

Mai looked as if she was about to puke, a hand over her stomach. But it wasn't Azula's driving skills that were making her sick. "_Hunk_? That's the least you can say about him."

Azula may have glared at her, but Mai couldn't tell through her dark shades. Azula asked suspiciously, "What do you mean by that, Mai? He's in all the accelerated classes. He's on the football, tennis, and track teams. His father even works for my father's company."

"There's more to a person than the logistics, Azula," Mai said pointedly.

"Because you're _such_ the romantic expert," she replied sarcastically. "If Chan's been determined enough to leave me roses wherever I go, something tells me he can be determined in other things."

"Ooh, like sex!" Ty Lee quipped, and had this been the day before, Azula would have slapped the stupid girl. But instead, she gripped the steering wheel and sighed coolly.

"Yes, Ty Lee, like sex."

"You say that _I'm_ not the romantic expert?" Mai questioned. "Azula, look at yourself. What if Chan's not the guy? What if he rejects you?"

"He won't," Azula said sternly. She wouldn't have doubt sprinkle anywhere.

"You never even _liked_ him before," Mai argued. "But you like him now because he's attractive and giving you roses? How is that any different from what he was doing freshman year? This is shallow, especially for you, Azula."

"Will you just be quiet already?!" Azula snapped, shutting off the Corvette and radio as they parked in the usual spot. "Come on, Ty Lee. Mai obviously doesn't want to see the matchmaking of a lifetime."

"I'd like to keep my lunch," Mai replied, crossing her arms as Azula and Ty Lee left. She watched them go across the lawn towards the jocks, who were tossing a football back and forth. Finally she sighed, stepped out of the vehicle, and walked to the other side of the grass, where Zuko and Co. were. Approaching them, she said, "Please don't tell me that I'm the only one who thinks this is shallow."

The boys turned with interest. Mai usually never talked or looked at them without the assistance of Azula and Ty Lee.

"What's up?" Zuko asked.

"Azula's about to ask Chan Detten out," Mai answered, crossing her arms again.

"Chan Detten? Seriously? That _prick_?!" Sokka exclaimed, slapping his forehead. "Geez, they'll be like, the popular monster couple of the school!"

"Wait, who's Chan?" Aang asked, being the unknowledgeable little freshman that he was.

"Like Sokka said, he's a total prick," Jet filled in. "He kicked me off the football team because I wasn't as fucking rich as him."

"You said it," Haru added. "He kicked me off the tennis team for the same thing."

Zuko looked quizzically at Mai. "So. . . why does she want to date him?"

"Because according to her, that's who the secret admirer is. That, and she finds him attractive." Mai stared down at her feet. "I don't think it's him, though. If I know him right, Chan's too pig-headed to do _anything_ romantic."

"That's one way to put it," Zuko muttered. Even he, who had never even played a school sport, didn't like Chan. The guy gave him a bad vibe. "So, you think it's one of _them_, still?"

Mai nodded at the group of boys before them. "They at least have part of a brain, however small that may be."

"Hey, my brain's not that small!" Sokka yelped. "It's just, well, I don't like to use it that much. . ."

"Maybe," Mai added to her comment before. Zuko chuckled.

"So you're totally against Chan?"

"Close enough. And to think that I had actually considered watching the cow-pig slaughter." Mai glanced over her shoulder, where a small crowd had gathered to see what the prestigious Azula Hamill was doing with quarterback star Chan Detten. He stood in front of her, shoulders broad with football padding and white jersey sticking to his muscled chest. Sweat trickled down his temple as he grinned that gorgeous grin, pigskin tucked beneath his arm.

"Hey Azula," he greeted, surprised that she had pulled him aside. Most girls didn't interrupt him and his buddies during a morning scrimmage, but a simple call and he had come jogging over. "What's up?"

"Hello, Chan," Azula said in a voice that was an attempt to be friendly, but cautious at the same time. She twirled a finger around a strand of hair. "I was curious to know what you've been up to as-of-late. I remember you from freshman year. Do you remember me?"

"'Course I do."

"Good. Because if you haven't noticed, someone's been sending me roses. I find that to be very sweet of you."

"Roses?" Chan restated, obviously confused. Then he smiled. "_Right_. Roses. I thought you'd like them."

"I did."

"So, does this mean you wanna go out some time?"

"I don't have a boyfriend, so yes."

"Sweet."

And just like that, Chan Detten and Azula Hamill became the couple of the school. As the bell rang they walked inside with their arms around one another, as if they had been together for months. . . because that's just the way love was.

Ronjion, abandoned by his football buddy, turned to Mai, who was coincidentally standing next to him. He flashed a wide smile. "Hey babe."

Mai rolled her eyes, snatched Zuko's hand, and went inside.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Sorry it's so short - but don't worry, the next few chapters will be longer, considering that the story's building up. Oh, and as for Azula's behavior? Totally based off of "The Beach". Because Chanzula is frankly one of the worst ships to hit Avatar. . . it should have never set sail. Seriously. Oh, and I just added that Mai bit right now. Yeah, go Maiko! Squee. And overprotective!Ozai strikes again. Bwahahahahaha.


	6. You're Awful, I Love You

**

* * *

**

**I Will Possess Your Heart  
**_By Nikkel_  
(c) to Nickelodean, Michael Dante DiMartino, and Bryan Konietzko

* * *

It was true—Chan Detten and Azula Hamill had become the couple of the school.

The news had spread like lightning, and there was not a passing period where the couple was not mentioned. It should have been no surprise that they had hooked up, being the two most popular people in the school, and the rumor had quickly spread of how Chan had so faithfully left Azula roses on her windowsill late in the night. Chan and Azula were _always _somewhere on campus exchanging romantic gestures. To the casual onlooker, they were positively breathtaking.

On a night coming home from football practice (Azula had watched), the roof of Chan's orange Hummer down, something was. . . not right. Chan glanced at his girlfriend, her hand propping her chin up as she ignored the hip-hop music over the radio, gazing at the passing landscape. She was completely turned away from him, as if avoiding him. He decided to ask about it.

"Hey 'Zulie. Somethin' wrong?"

She glared darkly at him. "It's _Azula_. And no, there's nothing wrong."

Chan failed to pick up the heavy element of sarcasm. He shrugged and cranked the music up. "You say so."

The fact was, something _was _wrong—she just couldn't figure out what. Chan was what she had wanted, and Chan was what she had got. . . but things didn't add up. She still received the roses, but they were much less frequently now, and seemed to be a dying effort. After a while the cards that had been attached to them stopped coming altogether. On the days she didn't drive to school (such as today), no roses arrived in her car anymore. Azula wondered why Chan never personally gave her any. When she had confronted him about it, he always changed the subject or joked that he didn't know anything. It was confusing, to say the least.

Chan pulled up to the Hamill house. Azula silently undid her seatbelt, when Chan reached out and grabbed her arm. "Wait. Are you sure everything's okay?"

"Let me go," she said sharply, ripping her arm out of his grasp. "I'm _fine_. Can't you ever take a hint?"

"Excuse me?"

"Forget it."

"All right then," he said, and leaned towards her for a goodbye kiss. Azula pulled back. His brow furrowed. "Oh come on, 'Zulie. It's been two weeks and we haven't even kissed yet! Do you know how lame that is? I've fucked girls in at least three days!"

"Nice of you to think of me that way, then. Like another one of your cheerleader whores," Azula snarled, slamming the Hummer door shut so it nearly fell off. "And it's _Azula_."

"They're not whores!" Chan shouted, but Azula had already started up the sidewalk. "If you think they're whores, there's seriously something wrong with you!"

He got no response.

"Fine, be a bitch!" He yelled, tires squealing on the pavement, and angrily drove away. Azula clenched her jaw and snorted, wrenching the front door open and slamming it behind her. Ozai wasn't home yet, but Zuko was, and judging by the voices in the kitchen, he had friends over.

"Oh great, Azula's here," Sokka said loudly, maybe as if to invite her into the kitchen, but she ignored them. She headed directly up the stairs.

"Leave her alone," Jet's voice echoed off the vaulted ceiling. "Why the hell would you want her down here with us?"

Azula didn't bother to hear the rest of their conversation. She didn't need to. She entered her room, crossing the Gaoling carpet to sit at an ebony desk facing the crimson-colored wall. The spot was clean and orderly, and she switched on the lamp above her head, pulling up her messenger bag to begin her homework. There was a history essay to do. And then calculus. And then Japanese. It would get done.

Homework was generally an easy task for her. It wasn't even a task at all. It was minor entertainment, a simple focus that drew away from life to draw all her energy on a single subject. However, this routine was. . . not working, to say the least, this evening. She frowned irritably as Zuko's band, the Dragon Brothers, started their rehearsal in the basement. She could feel the vibrations in her feet, listening to the awful metal-meshing racket of instruments with their trim set too high. And then, her iPhone rang. It was Chan.

She solved that problem by throwing it across the room.

"Agni. . ." she said aloud. What was _wrong_ with her? Everything was supposed to be going well until. . . until _what_? It was literally driving her insane. Feeling this way was. . . foreign. Strange. Absurd. She decided to switch to the history essay. "I'm acting like Zuko."

_Love me cancerously, like a salt sore soaked in the sea  
__High-maintenance means you're a gluttonous queen  
__Narcissistic and mean_

Well, she had to admit that was interesting. Zuzu wasn't screaming something emo and dreadful. The voice was clear, the guitar was staccato, and it was a new song altogether. Very different.

_Kill me romantically  
__Fill my soul with vomit then ask me for a piece of gum  
__Bitter and dumb, you're my sugar plum_

It wasn't Zuko. Little Zuzu wasn't bright enough to compose such. . . _clever _lyrics. Azula stood up and abandoned her homework, now focused on something new, something different. She would investigate.

_You're awful, I love you  
__She moves through moon beams slowly  
__She knows just how to hold me  
__And when her edges soften, her body is my coffin  
__I know she drains me slowly, she wears me down to bones in bed  
__Must be the sign on my head, that says  
__Ohhhhhhh LOVE ME DEAD!  
__Love me dead!_

She entered the doorway of the basement, where the Dragon Brothers were performing. Zuko and Jet were on guitar, Sokka on bass, Haru on synthesizer, and Aang on percussion. Microphones were pushed up to all of them, so they were each individually singing a line, harmonizing when necessary.

Perhaps it was a new exercise. They didn't notice her.

_You're a faith healer on TV  
__You're an office park without any trees, corporate and cold  
__Gushing for gold. . .  
__Leave me alone!  
__You suck so passionately, you're a parasitic-psycho-filthy-creature finger-bangin' my heart  
__You call me a drunk, does the fun ever start?  
__You're hideous, and sexy!_

_She moves through moon beams slowly  
__She knows just how to hold me  
__And when her edges soften, her body is my coffin  
__I know she drains me slowly, she wears me down to bones in bed  
__Must be the sign on my head, that says  
__Ohhhhhhh LOVE ME DEAD!  
__Love me dead!_

And with that, Jet as the lead guitarist, broke out into a melodic, climbing solo. It was alternating and poppy, as if someone were going up and down a ladder, but never reaching the very top or very bottom. He swung his head violently and then pressed his lips to the mic. "_Love me cancerously. . ._"

The boys all broke out in an almost spastic bridge, and Sokka seized his microphone, clutching it with a single hand as the others shredded on their guitars. "_How's your new boy?!"_

"_Does he know about me?!"_ Aang versed.

"_You've got the mark of the beast_," Haru sang.

"_You're born of a jackal!_" Jet cried.

"_You're beautiful_!" Zuko yelled, concluding the bridge, and they all joined in on the final chorus. When it was over, there was nothing but the buzzing static of fading guitars and heavy breathing. Zuko looked at his watch. "Hey guys, the Chinese should be here now."

"Sweet!" Sokka exclaimed, nearly dropping his bass as he and Aang stampeded for the door. But they instantly stopped short as Azula stood in the doorway, arms crossed and glaring. Aang stumbled into Sokka.

"Oh, uh, hi Azula!" the freshman yelped. "Can I like, pass, so I can get, um. . ."

Azula rolled her eyes and wordlessly stepped aside. Sokka shoved Aang through the doorway, shouting, "Go, go, go!"

The basement also served as Zuko's room. The walls had been painted black, but one couldn't tell with all of the posters practically glued to them. Three bare lightbulbs hung from the ceiling. The basement was rather spacious, but the band's speakers were lined along the walls, taking up most of the space. Azula faintly wondered how they could tolerate the claustrophobia of it all.

Zuko set his custom-made Gibson on its stand, and Haru laid a leather cover over his mixer. They looked at Jet, who was sitting on a subwoofer, Fender in his lap.

"You coming?" Haru asked.

"Yeah, yeah." Jet waved a hand at him. "I just gotta fix this string before it snaps."

Zuko shrugged. "You say so. Just hope that Sokka and Aang haven't eaten everything when you come up." He nearly bumped into Azula, who was nonchalantly standing in the doorway still. "Oh. What are you doing here?"

"I heard you were playing something interesting, so I decided to investigate," she replied off-handedly. Zuko frowned, studying her cool expression, suspecting that she was up to something else. Finally, though, he gave up and sighed. "We ordered some take-out. You can have some."

"I don't need that many calories." She rolled her eyes. They landed on Haru, who had a pained expression on his face. He didn't know whether or not to ask her to move out of the doorway, which resulted in her rolling her eyes again. "You know all you had to do was say 'please'."

Haru squeaked meekly, head down, and Azula stepped aside. Haru raced up the stairs with Zuko in tow, leaving Jet alone with his guitar. . . and Azula.

A moment of silence passed before Jet peered up through his overflowing hair, a sly smirk to his lips. He knew why she was here. "You don't think it's him, do you?"

Her eyes flashed to his. "_What_?" she snapped.

"You don't think it's Chan. The rose sender guy."

She huffed. "Maybe I don't. So what."

"That means you think it's one of us," Jet dissected. "And judging by the way you're standing, and you're down here, you think it's me."

"I do."

"Well then, what can I say?" Jet set the fixed guitar in a stand next to the subwoofer. "You caught me red-handed."

She studied his face, tricky and casual. It didn't take long for her to cross her arms and purse her lips. "You're lying."

Jet shrugged indifferently. "Maybe I am. But the fact is, you don't know who this rose-guy is." His eyes met hers again. "And I do."

She blinked. Trust was a brief handshake. He beckoned with his forefinger for her to near, and she did. He cupped a hand over his mouth, as if someone was watching. "_I _personally think it's Sokka."

Azula stood up straight. "Sokka?"

"Yeah." Jet nodded and hopped off the speaker. "He's always talking about you. How pretty you are, what a bitch you can be—that's his cover. Catch him off-guard, and there's no doubt in my mind that he'll spill. He's been complaining ever since you started dating Chan. He's the one that suggested we sing that song earlier."

She couldn't tell if he was lying again. Jet had the face of someone who lied all the time but always bellied the truth in the end, and thus made it impossible to determine what he said.

"Hypothetically speaking, what if it is Sokka?" she asked.

"It is," Jet confirmed, and headed for the upstairs. "And I dunno what would happen. Maybe you should ask him."

He left. Azula glanced at Sokka Whitman's cobalt Washburn bass, weighing in the new revelations.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Squee! So I totally could not pass up the chance to feature Zuko's little band singing a song about Azula ("Love Me Dead" by Ludo. . . it fits any relationship with Azula perfectly). And of course, the mysterious sender's identity draws nearer. . . because it's definetely _not_ Chan. He's a butthead. Oh, and if you think it's strange that Zuko was singing the song too, well, he just _might _be thinking of someone else :)


	7. Playing the Part

**I Will Possess Your Heart**  
_By Nikkel_  
(c) Nickelodeon, Michael Dante DiMartino, and Bryan Konietzko

* * *

The hardest part about going out on a night was what to wear . . . even if it was just the school play. But, it was taking place at the city amphitheatre, and called for an air of formality. School uniforms didn't count.

The weather had let up since school let out, and thus Azula decided on something cooler and more summer-oriented. She dressed in a maroon gown fashioned with a light scarlet top and flared bottom, gold bangles adorning her neck and arms. The outfit was complete with a pair of sharp heels. She could easily relax while simultaneously looking alert and proper. It was the perfect thing.

"Well, you're pretty dressed up," Zuko commented when she came down the stairs. She glanced at him. He was sitting there, in the living, admist dozens of multicolored flowers.

"And you say _I _have a secret admirer?" she snickered.

"Hey, these are for Uncle's shop! He's having a grand opening tomorrow, and I said I'd help," Zuko replied indignantly, brow furrowed. "Besides, I thought Chan was your secret lover. What's the deal?"

"None of your business."

"Just asking. He was complaining ever since lunch, you know."

"He's only complaining because I refused to watch his stupid football game." Azula rolled her eyes and headed out the door. "Why aren't you there?"

"Because I'm doing _this_!" Zuko exclaimed, and threw a bunch of flowers in the air. Obviously, what he was doing was not the most entertaining experience. "I mean heck! I would light them all on fire if I could!"

"Don't hurt yourself, Zuzu."

Thunder rumbled in the distance when she stepped outside. Azula tilted her head up at the black sky, eyes narrowed. It was _not _going to rain. For one thing, the dress she was wearing was Ember Island Flair, and for another, she hated the rain. She was not going to get caught in it.

As she put the cover to the convertible on, she noticed a single rose sitting in the front passenger seat. How interesting—it even had a note attached; most of the roses that Chan had been sending (if any at all) no longer came with these expensive little stationary cards. That was only one more reason that he was not the real secret admirer. Azula wondered what "he" had to say this time.

_I've run out of cards. I'm running out of roses. And I really want to give up right now._

Azula blinked. Give up? What was that supposed to mean?

She wouldn't think about it now. She needed to get to the play, and before it rained. If Katara was there as the main actress, then it was no doubt Sokka was there—meaning she could confront him about the note. She figured that it would sort things out rather easily.

Azula sped over to the city's amphitheatre, easing into a parking space and heading inside. Though the rain was still a ways off, she quickened her pace up the cement staircase and headed into the lobby. As she stood on the plush lavender carpet and among other individuals dressed in a similar semi-formal fashion, her iPhone rang. It was Mai.

"So, having fun at the play?" Mai drawled. Azula huffed, waiting in line.

"I haven't even gotten a ticket yet."

"I would have come, you know."

"I told you that I needed to do this alone. Oh, and _he_ sent me a message."

"Oh really? He hasn't done that in a while."

"I know. He's running out of cards, so I need you and Ty Lee to go to the Hallmark store downtown and stake him out. Tonight."

"How do you even know he's there?"

"I've been keeping track of how often he orders the cards. I can tell by their manufacturing date and time periods he's been sending them. This last one he sent said he was running low, so he's going to need more."

"What about Sokka?"

"I'm questioning it. One of Sokka's associates may be picking up the cards. I'm going to assume it's Jet."

"Why Jet?"

"Because he was the one that told me the sender was Sokka."

". . . And you believe him."

"I don't have all that many clues, Mai," Azula turned to the ticket woman. "One, please."

"Sign here." The woman sitting at the fold-up table indicated to a lined sheet of paper with various names and seat numbers on it. Azula spied Sokka Whitman, and to her annoyance, the seats around him were already taken. She looked back at the ticket women, and purposely kicked her foot hard against the leg of the table so the money box toppled to the floor. "Oh!"

The ticket woman bent down to pick the objects up, and with a pencil in hand Azula erased the name next to Sokka's and replaced it with her own, so she would be sitting next to him. The ticket woman did not notice as she sat back up, returning to see Azula scrawl her "name". She handed Azula her ticket, hardly acknowledging the switch.

"What did you just do?" Mai asked over the phone.

"Made things much more convenient," Azula replied shortly, entering the theatre and searching like a hawk for her target. She spotted him in a crisp, button-downed suit, and talking to Professor Piandao. "I've got to go. Don't forget to go to Hallmark."

"Whatever you say, your highness."

Azula hung up, and the preshow announcement sounded over the speakers. She kept her eyes locked on Sokka as the lights dimmed, swiftly sliding into the row before the original occupant of the seat to his right arrived.

"Hello, Sokka."

Sokka jumped. "A-Azula?! What are you doing here?!"

Azula shrugged and sat, her bare arm brushing against his maroon-colored shoulder. "I came to see the show, of course. _Love Amongst the Dragons _is a classic."

"Yeah, well, you're in Suki's seat."

"Who?"

"Suki Kwan. My _date_."

"I thought you were single," Azula chirped, clicking her tongue. "And she's not here, so I suppose you'll have to do with me."

"Yes she is, she's right there at the end of the row!" Sokka pointed, and Azula turned to see that Suki was, in fact, standing there. She had a mixture of fury and hurt on her face. Obviously, seeing Sokka with another girl did not please her. She clenched her fists and turned away. Sokka rose from his seat, desperate to chase after her, but Azula stuck her arm out. "Let me through!"

"Forget it," Azula shot back, sticking her leg out and preventing him from passing. He struggled, kicking the chairs around him and causing quite the obnoxious scene.

"What's your problem? I have to talk to her!"

"No you don't. Leave her alone."

"How about _you _leave _me _alone?!"

"I will if you just sit down!"

"HEY!" One of the ushers had spotted their disruption. Sokka and Azula froze. "Sit down, you two, and watch the show!"

Sokka grudgingly sank into his seat, arms crossed and lower lip jutting out, while Azula coolly lowered herself back into hers. They silenced, watching the play unfold, the stage set a brilliant array of red and blue. The actors and actresses milled about, but a girl dressed entirely in blue stood out, walking up to the front of the stage to deliver a lengthy monologue. Azula instantly recognized the face of Katara Whitman, Sokka's little sister. What a perfect moment. Azula leaned into Sokka. He grunted.

"Can't you wait until the scene is over?" he grumbled.

"No," Azula whispered back.

"What do you want with me?"

"You know what I want. Jet told me it was you."

"Well whatever he told you, he lied. I didn't do anything."

"Oh, I think you did."

"What are you talking about?" Sokka asked, his voice rising.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"No, I don't!" Sokka said loudly, causing several people around him to shush him. "Just leave me alone! I don't want to talk to you!"

People complained and the usher that had yelled at them before returned at the end of the row, glaring at them through the darkness. They fell quiet again.

"Can't you wait until intermission?" Sokka whispered. Azula rolled her eyes.

"Fine. Even though you can answer what I want you to right now."

"Hmph."

They remained silent for the rest of the act. The usher kept glancing at them, hoping that they were causing another scene so he had a reason to kick them out. But Sokka stayed slouching and Azula stayed composed. Her foot tapped impatiently. Sokka glared at her, seeing her knee shake distractingly out of the corner of his eye. He squirmed in his seat, purposely elbowing her and propping his own knee up. She snorted and pushed his knee down, his foot accidentally kicking the man in front of them, who gave a very irritated snort. The usher hovered back to them and Azula clapped her hand onto Sokka's, digging her nails into his skin to get him to shut up, jerking him forward as if intently watching the show (it was currently a deadly battle scene), fooling the usher. Sokka whimpered, the usher went away, and intermission began. The lights came up.

"Damn!" Sokka cried when Azula released his hand, cradling it painfully. He had small, bloody indentations from where her nails had been. "What is wrong with you?! Don't you ever cut those?!"

"They're _manicured_," Azula corrected. "We need to find some place private."

She started to walk away, but Sokka lunged out and grabbed her arm. "No! We talk about this _here_, and _now_!"

"Would you rather have this conversation in front of your girlfrie—" Azula stopped. It had now occurred to her that that was why Suki had been so upset. Sokka didn't notice.

"In front of my girlfriend? You know, that doesn't really matter anymore, because you already stole her seat!"

Azula dismissed the issue. "We're not discussing this here," she stated primly, turning around so Sokka had no other choice but to follow. They went out into the lobby again and veered down an empty hallway, standing next to a water fountain.

"Okay," Sokka said, crossing his arms importantly. "I've sacrificed the first act of my sister's play for you, and Suki hates me. Tell me what you want."

"You know what I want."

"I'm not playing games!" Sokka shouted, slamming his fist on the fountain.

"Calm down," Azula harked; his actions were reminding her of Zuko.

"Then just tell me what you want."

"I know you're the sender, Sokka."

Sokka halted, blinking rapidly, trying to understand what she had just said. "_What_?" he sputtered in disbelief.

Azula smirked. "You heard me—I know you're the sender."

"You—You. . . You mean the roses thing?"

"Precisely."

"You've got to be kidding me! Who told you that?!" Sokka reared back and slapped his forehead. "This is crazy!"

"Jet told me."

"Spirits! Why in the world would you believe him?!"

"He seemed like a reliable source."

Sokka took a deep breath, calming himself down. People that had been in the lobby were turning their heads to look down their hallway. "Jet's a liar."

"Excuse me?"

"You know if it seriously bothers you this much, then I'll tell you who it is. Because at least then you'll leave me alone."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"Haru Dow."

Azula's brow furrowed. "You're serious?"

"Yes."

"How do you know?"

"I'm not allowed to say. But it's him."

"Well, thank you for your time, Sokka." Azula walked away and back into the lobby, where she found Suki peering around the corner. Her smirk returned as she tapped the girl on the shoulder. Suki jumped, spinning around. Azula looked at her square in the eye. "Just to let you know, your boyfriend's not a very good kisser."

"What?!" Suki exclaimed, ready to tear Azula's head off, but Azula was already out the lobby doors. It was simply fun to mess with people.

But now, the problem of tracking Haru Dow had come into play. Well, at least Sokka Whitman was another name off the list. Unlike Sokka, Azula recalled that Haru wasn't very-well connected with a wide group of people other than his friends. He was rather reclusive. . . A kanga-rat hiding in its hole. It was just a matter of drawing him out.

She drove straight home, knowing she could use her father's computer to search for whatever activities or classes Haru Dow was in. She would call Mai and Ty Lee later—Haru was probably going to pick up his order of cards tonight, so their stakeout was necessary. Catching a man she didn't know much about (yet) was now her top priority.

Azula pulled into the four-car garage. It hadn't begun to rain yet, with the storm still beyond the city skyline, but Azula could smell it. The hair raised on the back of her neck and thunder growled closer. She went inside.

"You're still not done with those?" she asked as she entered the kitchen. Zuko was sitting at the table, still tying flowers together. He appeared to be struggling with a pair of panda lilies.

"Yes. . ." he grumbled in reply. His finger got stuck in the knot, and he tried yanking it out without harming the flowers. He glanced at her. "What are you doing home? I thought the play didn't end 'till ten."

"There was a change of plans." Azula strolled around the table, leaning against it and nimbly picking up a scarlet rose. She noticed that the thorns had not been cut. She twirled the evergreen stem in her fingers. "Zuko, where did you get these?"

"At the White Lotus Garden downtown."

"Did you pay for all of them?"

"No. Haru works there, and he gave me a discount."

"Is he still there?" Azula asked excitedly.

"Um, yeah. Probably. Why do you ask?"

Before he could say anymore, Azula was out the door and burning rubber out of the driveway, enlightened with a renewed exhilaration and purpose. The tires squealed around the corner and left track marks down Dragon Boulevard, shooting straight for downtown, to the White Lotus Garden. No time could be wasted—without a doubt, Haru Dow would be there, and she wanted to catch him before he closed shop. Blazing through green lights (being born lucky certainly had its advantages right now), the pieces all seemed to fit, like a broken mirror coming together on rewind. Forget all she had claimed that she didn't know about him. These past few weeks had told her more than enough.

She was the sole customer in the parking lot, her eyes fleeting to the illuminated windows of the store. Arranged in front were scarlet roses blooming like there was no tomorrow, peculiarly similar cards dangling from the stems by gold ribbon attached. Yes! It _was _him! The realization caught her for a moment—what if it was just another ploy? Like the nasty trick Jet had pulled?

Dammit. Now, this called for espionage. Azula snatched a black sweater Mai had left in the back seat and threw it over her shoulders, swiping the hood over her head. There wasn't much she could do about her lower body—she was still in the dress. She didn't have time to cha—

"Enough thinking!" Azula snapped, focusing back on the mission. Going as quickly as she could in heels she snuck up to the window, peering inside. She couldn't spy any movement, but the back door was wide open, revealing the actual nursery, fertilizer and plants and water hoses and all. Haru was probably back there, organizing or watering flowers or something.

Azula slunk to the door and opened it cautiously, wary of the little bell that signaled a customer's entrance. Like an agile cat she slipped in, immediately darting behind a giant flower pot. She searched the upper corners of the room for cameras, and then concluded that the store was too small a business to afford surveillance. At least she wouldn't look like a thief. . . a stalker, maybe, but if they knew what she had been going through. . .

Quick feet led her to peer around the doorway. It was difficult to contain her excitement, twitchy and jumpy and ready to confront the man here, with his back turned and hood over his face to protect him from the rain. Haru was working with something on a wooden bench, and then turned to walk to the other end of the garden, passing right by the doorway.

Azula caught a glimpse of his face beneath the hood and her heartstrings pulled and she leapt from her hiding spot and tackled him from behind.

* * *

**Author's Note: **This chapter was very fun to write. Not only because it's building the climax, but because I've never quite written Sokkla before. Having Azula and Sokka banter back and forth beneath the usher's eye was extremely amusing. However, as you can see, Sokka is not the secret lover. . . and Azula's so headed on her way to get Haru. Yay for cliffies! :D


	8. Break Me Down

**I Will Possess Your Heart**  
_By Nikkel_  
(c) Nickelodeon, Michael Dante DiMartino, and Bryan Konietzko

* * *

"_Gotcha_!"

Azula lunged and tackled the unsuspecting fellow, wrapping her arms around his neck from behind and dragging him down. He let out a wild shout of surprise and flailed, twisting out of Azula's grip and dashing down the aisle, trying to escape. He shoved flower pots off the shelves and smashed them to the concrete floor, complicating her path. Azula evasively darted away from the spilled dirt and shattered pots, catching up to him. He spun on his heel and snatched the nearest thing he could—which just happened to be another flower pot. He chucked it directly at her head.

Azula swiped up a metal spade that had been lying on the shelf next to her, lunging out and blocking the flying pot, head turning away from the clay explosion. She lunged again and struck another flying pot, and another and another, not missing a single one, until he had his back against the chain-link fence. It had begun to storm at last, the fluorescent lights above them flickering dangerously, as if trapped in some horror movie. Azula smirked, closing in.

He suddenly turned and heaved a giant bag of fertilizer in front of him, shielding him from whatever harm Azula wished to unleash. She threw the spade dead-center into the bag, as if it had been a bullseye, and ripped it open the moment she closed in. Haru lifted the bag and dumped the green stuffing on her, abandoning his spot as she sputtered the seeds out and stood frozen in disbelief.

"You. . . You. . ." She whipped around and found him sprinting down another aisle to the back gate, ringing his keys from his pocket to frantically undo the padlock.

Ignited with rage, Azula hunted him down and snatched a hose that trickled water from the side. Still running, she blasted it on high, striking Haru right in the torso and face until he dropped his keys and fell backwards, scrambling and exposed. Azula threw the hose to the ground and ran to tackle him before he could recover. She skidded on the slippery floor and ended up crashing him back to the ground, his head cracking against the concrete and causing the hood over his face to fall, Azula perched right above him in fury and anticipation.

It wasn't Haru.

For once, when coming upon her enemy, Azula could not speak. She blinked, listening to the plinking of raindrops beyond the fence, the hose and its uncontrolled nozzle, the heavy breathing and pained groaning of the boy below her, battered and weary. Water dripped off the tip of her nose. She felt paralyzed.

It was _Jet_.

"You're crushing something very important right now," Jet groaned, his voice a little higher than usual. Azula pushed herself up, taking a step back. Her logic screamed that nothing made sense. He smiled, standing up and brushing the combination of dirt and fertilizer away. "Thanks."

"_Thanks_?" Azula snarled, suddenly on the defensive. "_Thanks_?"

"Well, what did you expect? Prince Charming?"

"You. . . You lied to me!"

"I wouldn't say _lied_." He seemed to muse on the manner in a comical way. "My ankles were crossed, didn't ya see?."

"You. . ." Too many emotions were coming to her at once—anger, shock, confusion. She swiftly shook her head, muttering, "I have to get out of here."

"Hey! Don't go!" Jet cried, and reached out, catching her by the arm.

"Let go of me!" Azula yelled. She struggled in his grip and brought her fist about to punch him when his other hand caught her wrist. She maneuvered her feet to pull away. "You're going to pay if you don't let me go, wait until my father—"

Still squirming, he managed to push her against the fence, raindrops coming down like silver bullet shells behind her. He gripped her tighter and she kicked her heel ferociously at his shin, and he nearly doubled over. In response he slammed her on the chain-link fence again, rattling noisily and shouted right in her face,

"Listen to me!"

Azula did stop. Jet realized then that she wasn't angry—she was scared. He paused, the two of them staring at one another, eyes wide.

"I. . ." Jet knew he had to say something. He relaxed his grip a little. He didn't want to hurt her. "This isn't what it was supposed to be."

He was close to her. So close, that they could have kissed. But they didn't. Azula looked down and away from him.

"And just what _did_ you expect?" she questioned spitefully, voice lingering malice.

"I don't know," he sighed. "You see, I had this plan, and you. . . you kind of. . . I love you."

Amber eyes flashed to his. Tall, dark, and handsome—just the way that girl had described him so many weeks ago. How had she not seen it? It had been right before here eyes! But none of it made any sense, and Azula felt sick. Sick, sick, sick. Disgusted. She didn't move, the immobilization rising in her throat again, making it impossible to speak. When she did, her voice was unnaturally unstable. "I have to get home."

He didn't move. His hands still lingered on her arms. "Please don't."

She still didn't move. He leaned in. . . and kissed her.

Bad move.

"_Jet_!" Azula screeched, ripping herself apart from him, shoving him away. She couldn't think of what else to say—she simply knew that she had to get out of here, get home. Before he could say another word she was out of his grip and out of the garden. He didn't follow.

Azula sprinted out into the parking lot, the downpour coming down hard, drenching her through and through. Driving home was an almost drug-induced blur. Lights and sounds fled past her, rain and thunder and lightning and other cars speeding beside her in the dark night. She didn't even take note of where she was going. What route she was taking. Azula thought she saw the Hallmark store—Mai and Ty Lee would still be there, waiting for Haru. . . No, not him. He was unimportant. Another nobody. Another name crossed off the list. Unlike. . .

. . . _"I love you." . . ._

Suddenly there was a screeching of tires and blaring of horns. Azula snapped awake and jerked the wheel, accelerating and almost getting hit by oncoming traffic, swerving safely back onto the road. She had drove through a red light. She had nearly been killed.

She pulled into the driveway in a daze. She put her head against the steering wheel. Something was definitely wrong with her.

She knew that it was all because of _him_.

How could something so simple go so wrong _so fast_?

Azula gritted her teeth and threw open the car door. She hadn't been wearing a seat belt—well, maybe if she had gotten hit, she would have gone flying through the windshield. She burst into the Hamill household, storming down the door and stomping across the living room. It must have been past midnight as she switched on the fire place, which roared to life in huge flames of oranges and yellows and blues. Azula dashed upstairs to her room and snatched all of roses and cards in her arms, and hauled them downstairs to throw them all into the fire.

Sitting reclusively in the shadows, Ozai watched her heave the roses into the flames, burning away their beauty. A glass of brandy was in his hand, resting comfortably the chair's arm. _The Art of War_ lay facedown in his lap. He was completely silent.

Azula hurtled the last rose into the fire with so much force the flames jumped at her. She then stepped back to admire her work, her arms covered in little white scratches from the thorns (she didn't _want_ to know why they had never been cut off), crossing them and glaring into the blazing hearth. She was still wet, dirty from the gardens, and a part of her dress had been ripped. She stood there, watching the roses burn into ashes and undetermined blackness. The smoke that poured into the chimney didn't smell too pleasant—Azula wiped her nose and eyes, convincing herself it was the fire, and not the awful feeling in her chest.

Ozai sipped his brandy and sighed heavily in his armchair. He would not interfere. He glanced at one of the cards that had crept out of the hearth, its corner curled copper and the ink running into smudged black lines. Beside him on a lamp table was an old family portrait. The corners of the photo within were also singed and the white creases meant it had been folded a number of times, not to mention a small rip here and there. Even the frame was a little battered, but had been painted over with a decent coating of wood polish. The only reason Ozai kept it was because it was the only picture he had left of his wife.

And oh, how Azula was reminding him of her now.

Because Ursa had done the exact same thing eight years ago.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Short, but I do believe it was well worth it. Excuse me for any OOCness, it was bound to happen with any modern AU.


	9. Desperado

**

* * *

I Will Possess Your Heart  
**_By Nikkel  
_(c) Nickelodeon, Michael Dante DiMartino, and Bryan Konietzko

* * *

He listened to the sound of his alarm go off. It didn't really matter. He was already awake. That never happened.

His plans had never gone wrong before. Maybe it was because he was more of a go-with-the-flow sort of person, someone who was quick on their feet, ready for action the moment he was presented with it. But then again, he had not been so quick on his feet Friday night.

Jet closed his eyes, automatically imagining her—the first time he had seen her on campus, the time she had won countless academic awards at the end of her sophomore year, the time she had almost gotten into a car accident (he remembered that that was the first time he had seen her truly angry), the time she had called her father in the middle of the day to threaten one of the teachers about a low test grade, and. . . Friday night. Oh Spirits, he could still hear her voice in his head, intermingled with his own babbling of pathetic and stupid words. He was such an idiot.

To think that the roses idea with Azula would have worked—he laughed at himself now. Azula may have been orderly and brilliant, but predictable she was not. He had underestimated that.

And to underestimate Azula Hamill was simply dangerous.

Jet rose from the futon and instantly brought a cigarette to his lips. Who knew how many he would smoke today—hell, what was the _point_ of going to school? He had been considering dropping out anyways.

A childish wail down the hall from his foster family told him otherwise.

He halfheartedly pulled on his school uniform (green) and hunched over to lace up his Chuck Taylors as if he were someone that was carrying the weight of the world on his back. The family he lived with didn't quite care what he did so he left the house without a word, unable to obtain a car or hitch a ride, but not as underclassman-y as to ride the bus. Jet tilted his head up at the sky, his cigarette burning out at last.

It was a beautiful day. He looked down at the sidewalk and kicked his own shadow. What a waste. He decided to light another cigarette.

"Hey Jet!"

A loud rumbling and shout behind him and slowly approaching revealed Smellerbee in a brown '97 Ford. He stopped, teeth clenching down on the cigarette—he had been continually promising her that he would quit.

"Hey Bee," he replied, sauntering to the car. He opened it and flopped into the passenger seat, waiting for her to drive them to school, but she just sat there, staring at him with worried eyes. "_What_?"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Just tired."

Smellerbee waited a few moments more before reaching over and snatching his cigarette, tossing it out the window. "If you're fine, you wouldn't be smoking."

Jet simply rolled his eyes and propped his feet up on the dashboard. "Just drive."

. . . It was going to be a long day.

Today would be the first day in the past two months that he wouldn't have had to get up early and run to Azula's house across town to leave her a damn rose. He wouldn't have to come up with cheesy romantic sayings to get her to seek him out. It would be the first day that whenever he would think about her, he felt. . .

Unfortunately, Azula was the first thing he saw when he and Smellerbee arrived on campus. He quickly looked away—she was sitting _Chan_. So, even after she had found out that Chan was a fraud, she was still with him? Jet wanted to break something. He slammed the car door closed as he got out.

"Hey, I can't afford to fix this thing if you break it!" Smellerbee hollered. Jet's anger quickly faded, guilty. Smellerbee sighed and rolled her eyes. She could sense that he was in a bad mood, and knew better than to question it. "If you need me, I'm going to find Longshot. We have a trig project to work on."

She left him standing by the car. He waited there, knowing that in order to hold his usual morning conversation with Sokka and Zuko that he would have to pass by. . . _her_.

_She doesn't want me anyways_, the nasty little voice in his head whispered, and Jet kicked himself off the car. If Azula didn't want him, fine. If she wanted to date Chan, fine. He knew that he should have trusted his instincts—he should have stayed away.

By happenstance, Azula looked up the moment he walked by, and their gazes locked. Time stood still, but Jet kept walking, and Azula looked away.

If only he could know what she was thinking.

..:..:..:..

"Are you like, _okay_, Azula? You seem like, _totally _out of it," Ty Lee commented later in the week, on Wednesday. She, Azula, and Mai were sitting at the lunch table. Chan and his friends would have been with them, had they not snarfed down their food and raced to play a game of football.

"Yeah," Mai agreed, noticing the change in her friend's behavior. "This isn't like you."

Azula did not respond. She picked absentmindedly at the wooden table, chipping away the weathered, brown paint.

"Like, are you mad at us? I'm sorry we couldn't catch Haru on Friday. . ." Ty Lee said, and Azula's index fingernail scratched deeply into the table, tensing up in anger. Mai noticed and nudged Ty Lee in the side before she could cause anymore damage. "What? What's wrong?"

"It looks like something happened on Friday," Mai whispered in her ear, though it did not matter if Azula would have heard it or not. It was as if she was in a trance.

Ty Lee gasped. "Do you know what happened?!"

"No," Mai replied. Ty Lee was _always_ one to gossip. "You'd do best not to remind her of it."

"But she's been like this _all week_!" Ty Lee exclaimed. "We _have_ to do something."

Mai shook her head. "We're not going to do anything."

"But—Hey Azula, where are you going?"

Azula had stood up and was walking to the other side of the courtyard. Mai and Ty Lee watched as she approached Chan and his football buddies. Like always, Azula picked him out, and he came running over to her with the pigskin tucked beneath his arm, sweating. She crossed her own arms.

"'Sup 'Zulie?"

Azula sighed heavily. Chan had failed to notice her mood swings. "For the last time, it's _Azula_. I thought that I would let you know that I'm breaking up with you."

Chan blinked, somewhat flustered. He scratched the back of his head. "Um, what?"

Azula's eyes snapped to his, like a dragon going in for the kill. "I'm _breaking up _with you," she repeated, this time a little louder, catching some attention.

"Uh, do you think this is the right time? I mean really 'Zula—"

"It's _Azula_!" she shouted, and lunged forward to snatch him by the collar, yanking him right into her face, as if starting a fight. "It's _Azula Akira Hamill_, you inane, asinine cretin! Or have you demolished enough brain cells to hardly remember the way to pronounce an individual's full name, or in this case, _mine_?!"

"Uh. . ." Chan sputtered. People were watching him. A girl had never yelled at him like this before. Azula shook him once to recapture his attention.

"Listen, you _inconsiderate_ hog-monkey," she snarled threateningly, baring teeth, eyes aflame. "I, _Azula Akira Hamill_, am breaking up with you, _Chan Morris Detten_. I don't want anymore phone calls, I don't want anymore texts, and I don't want anymore of your _pathetic _excuses for being a selfish, half-assed boyfriend. WE. ARE. THROUGH."

She released him, practically shoving him away. Azula walked through the crowd that had gathered to know what the commotion was, and paused when there was a group of awestruck girls, clustered in a single group.

"Don't feel sorry for him," shoe ordered when she saw their sympathetic faces, but it came out more like a feral bark. "He was a lousy boyfriend."

Azula went back to her table. Jet, over at his own table, poked his head up hopefully. Like he predicted, she looked over at him, and he smiled. . . but she did not. There was still danger in her eyes. He then hunched over his food, feeling foolish. He really needed to listen to his instincts.

Azula breaking up with Chan was a warning.

..:..:..:..

The end of the year was coming up fast—flowers were cropping up, driver's licenses were earned, lawns flourished green, and the juniors were taking their exams to determine their entry into college. Four Nations High emptied itself of freshmen, sophomores, and seniors when it came time for the juniors to buckle down and undergo the ACT and SAT.

After five long hours of handcramping work, Jet strolled out of the gymnasium and into the bright, warm day. It was Thursday, and tomorrow he didn't have school. Things had been going in his favor for the past week and a half, it seemed—he had bought himself a new pair of bright orange Chuck's, he was now permanently working at Haru's shop instead of part-time, his grades were substantial, and he continually pushed the thought of Azula Hamill to the back of his mind. Walking through the parking lot to get home, he actually smiled. Maybe he would go to the beach.

But Jet dismissed any travel plans when a blazing red Corvette pulled up in front of him, Azula at the steering wheel. His jaw went slack.

"Get in."

* * *

**Author's Note: **I've always wanted to call someone a cretin.


	10. So Here We Are

**I Will Possess Your Heart  
**_By Nikkel  
_(c) Nickelodeon, Michael Dante DiMartino, and Bryan Konietzko

* * *

"Did you not hear me?!" Azula trilled. "I said get in!"

Jet was dumbfounded, but her shrill went right through his shock. He scrambled into the convertible and did not have the slightest second to speak before Azula hammered the gas and rocketed out of the parking lot. Jet was thrown back in his seat as he fumbled for the seat belt, the car lurching dangerously as Azula tore around the corner. He struggled with the buckle, trying to hold on for his dear life and watch the road at the same time, knowing that at this rate in a crash, his head would be beneath the tires. He pinched himself when the buckle finally clicked, and was thrown back in his seat once again.

"Aren't you going a little fast?!" he cried, eyes wide, arms splayed at his sides. He glanced at the speedometer. "Spirits! Slow down! If the cops catch us, they'll—"

"And what makes you think I give a _damn _about the cops?" Azula sharply countered, veering into a different lane. The Corvette fishtailed; Jet yelled. Azula was hardly fazed. "There's nothing my father can't get me out of."

"Yeah, _you_! But what about _me_?! I'll be accused too!"

Azula rolled her eyes, which resulted in the car violently swerving next to the concrete barrier. Jet had the wild urge to steal the wheel, but knew that getting in her way was not worth both their lives. A big green sign flashed overhead—they were headed out to the highway.

"Where are we going?!" he yelled, not intending to make her angry, but apparently he did: she changed lanes to narrowly fit between two cars, streamlining into traffic. Azula reached over and blasted the radio as loud as the speakers would permit. Jet cringed and clapped his hands over his ears, though it was hardcore metal music he would have usually enjoyed, but the vocals screamed higher than the Corvette's tires on asphalt.

Azula jerked the wheel this way and that, veering around cars at more than one hundred miles an hour, breaking suddenly every now and then so the cars behind screeched and wailed, nearly causing a massive pile-up. In addition to the overbearing music, Azula blared the horn, frightening people out of the way, clearing a lane all for her own.

After about an hour of reckless driving, Jet found that he could ease up. They were out of the city and out of the suburbs, the highway thinning, but the concrete barrier still present. The metal music was still as loud as ever—he more or less had built up an immunity to it—but it no longer bothered him. He still held tightly on to the car door, though, for just when he thought Azula was taking a break, she would accelerate.

Jet lost track of time. He looked out to the west, past Azula, and saw that the sun was beginning to set. They were far from civilization. The houses and grass and trees had faded long ago into the barren desert, featuring a lone cactus or ratty tumbleweed. The road had definitely thinned to only two lanes, separated by a double yellow line, yet this far out, they were the only ones out. Russet clouds of dust rose up as Azula drove, and the metal music fizzled out to static, so that the next thing Jet knew, he was staring at Azula in silence.

He quickly looked away and cursed his instincts for thinking her beautiful.

Finally, she eased off the gas and came to a stop. She turned off the car and white noise radio. Azula clenched the steering wheel, as if considering to go further, but got out of the car instead. She began to pace back and forth in front of the car, right in the middle of the road. Jet quietly got out, just watching. He wasn't exactly sure what to say.

Azula then stopped short, the hot wind blowing back the twin wisps of hair that fell at her temples, lips pursed. She swiftly turned on her heel and sat down in the convertible. Jet followed, his hand on the car door, but she caught him with a spiteful glare.

"You can _forget_ it."

"You're not going to leave me out here!"

"Just watch me."

Azula switched on the ignition and pulled hard on the stickshift, her foot downing the pedal. Jet leapt off the ground at the last second and lunged into the car, arm outstretched for the keys. He managed to tickle the keychain when Azula brought her knee up and smashed his head against the steering wheel, the car swerving yet again from the lack of control. The extra momentum gave him a shove and Jet ripped the keys out of the ignition, and before they could crash into a cactus patch Azula grabbed the emergency brake, yanking it up and smacking him right in the chin, knocking him away. The car skidded to a halt in a great cloud of dust, Azula coughing, and Jet monkeying his way out.

"Get back here!" Azula roared, struggling to get out of the car and chase him. Jet sprinted out several yards, trying to get as far as he could, and then arched his arm back, chucking the keys far out into the desert, losing them on purpose. The moment he released the keys, Azula had caught up to him and grabbed him by the collar. "What the hell did you do that for?!"

"Let go of me! You nearly fucking killed us!"

"And now we're both going to _die_ because _you_ threw the keys into the desert!" She let him go, throwing her arms up in the air. "Brilliant, Jet, just brilliant! You think that _you_ can solve _everything_ by throwing it away! You're a genius, did I tell you that? A brilliant, no-good, rose-sending _genius_!"

"It's your fault that we're _in_ the desert! If you hadn't gotten all pissed off—"

Azula sighed irritably, turning her back and ignoring him. "Just find the damn keys."

She started walking to the car and Jet let out a howl of frustration. He punched the air and kicked the ground. Azula hardly acknowledge him. "How am I supposed to find them?!" he shouted behind her. "They could be anywhere now! Come help me!"

She still ignored him. He let out another frustrated howl and whipped into the opposite direction, searching for the keys.

The sun was going down. The lavender mountains lie ahead of him as he searched, kicking up the dust and dirt, his shadow long and black. He glanced over his shoulder every now and then, only to see Azula leaning against the convertible, her arms crossed, her posture erect. He knew that she was watching and quickly went back to his search. There was absolutely nothing but a couple of old rabbit bones and dried-up weeds.

Jet groaned, covered from head-to-toe in desert dust, unable to find the keys. It was _impossible_ to find them. He tilted his head to the sky, violet and beginning to emerge with sparkling stars. Maybe if Azula wasn't mad at him, and he at her, and if they had driven out to the desert simply to be together, they could look at the sky. If they could just get over themselves, perhaps things could be. . . nice.

But he knew that wasn't going to happen. Especially not now.

Heading back to Azula was certain doom, but the Spirits were against him. Shoving his hands deep in his pockets, Jet shuffled back to the car, head hung and exhausted.

"Did you find them?" Azula asked primly when he approached. Jet didn't bother to look at her.

"No," he responded in a monotone.

"Fantastic, Jet," Azula snorted. "First you lose the keys, now you strand us here."

She clapped, slow and sarcastic. He shrugged indifferently, leaning on the back of the car. She could degrade him all she wanted, it wasn't going to solve their problem. He kicked a dust clod with his toe.

"Can't you get your rich-ass dad to come get us?"

"_Don't_ talk about my father that way," Azula growled defensively. "And I already tried calling him. There's no reception out here."

Jet actually had to check his own cell phone to be sure that she wasn't lying. For all he knew, she could _want _them to stay stranded. She had driven them all the way out here, afterall.

"Do you still have gas?" he asked. "We could hotwire it."

"Do you know how much my father _paid_ for this vehicle? And you want to damage it with your half-skilled hog-monkey hands? Forget it."

"Look, we shouldn't stay out here all night. Maybe there's a gas station down the road with a payphone. We can call a tow truck."

"So get walking."

As if on cue, a coyote howled. Jet huffed.

"It's dangerous."

"Aww, poor widdle Jet is afraid of the big bad wolf," Azula mocked, laughing emptily. Jet frowned.

"You know, I was going to say that it was dangerous and that I don't want to leave you alone."

"How thoughtful." Azula stepped right in front of him, demanding and important. "You think you're funny. You think you're smart. Guess what. You're _not_. You don't know how much I hate you right now."

"You know. . ." Jet sighed. "I think I hate you as much as you hate me. So go ahead, laugh. Make fun of me. You're arrogant and stuck-up and bitchy, but there's worse." At this, he laughed, about as sadistic as she had before. "Oh! There's much worse. You know what that is?"

In a strange way, Azula felt she was looking into a mirror. She wanted to kill him. "_What_?"

He became serious. "You're a monster."

She slapped him, hard. But before she could do anymore damage, she whirled around and walked away from him again. Now boiling over with rage, and noticing that her defenses were down, Jet followed and open fire.

"What, afraid to admit it's true?!" he called. She stopped in her tracks. "Afraid to admit that you don't give a damn about the rest of the world around you as long as it does what you say? Azula, you have no idea what I've tried to do! The rest of the school hates you, and you know, for a long time, I couldn't understand why. I thought you were strong, I thought you were intense, I thought you were. . . none of that matters, you know? After all of this, anything that anyone does for you is worthless. It makes you a monster."

"YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'VE BEEN THROUGH!" Azula whirled on him, violent and releasing her demons, shoving a finger at his neck and pushing him back towards the car. "Don't you have any inclination at all as to what the hell you and your stupid antics have _done to me_, Jet? I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't even _think _without you _being there _in my head! I don't particularly _care_ if you hate me, because that won't matter, because apparently my mind is trapped in some horrible mental lapse where _I can't get rid of you_!"

She now had him as far up to the car as they could get, her face close to his like that evening in the garden, only now their roles were reversed. Azula now gripped him fully by the collar, particularly his tie, seething with rage. She waited for him to say something, say _anything_, but his mouth was tight and his eyes were wide, neither afraid nor angry. It occurred to Azula that he was listening. He wanted her to say more. She wanted to glare into his soul and rip it to shreds, but her head bowed, and her voice shook at her next words.

"You said that you loved me."

Jet wanted to place a hand on her shoulder or provide chest to comfort, but to touch her would be suicide. Instead, he asked softly, "Did you believe me?"

She took a step back, as if sensing that he wanted to console her; she had to get away. "I never said that," she snapped, looking away from him again. "You don't know _what _I believe."

"I would like to know."

". . . Tell me when you make up your mind." Azula sighed exhaustingly and sat on the hood of the car, spent of her anger, and now simply overwrought with fatigue and confusion. "I'm tired of playing your games."

She knew that mainly, because, it was a game she couldn't win.

A long silence followed. A cool breeze cascaded down from the mountains and Jet shivered, but didn't move. He faintly wondered if Azula was cold, and mentally slapped himself. It was thoughts like those, he believed, that got him into a situation such as this.

"How did you do it?" Azula asked quietly, not moving, her voice faint and distant. Her elbows sat on her propped-up knees.

"Do what?" he asked, just as quiet. He didn't want to break the delicate tension. He was walking on eggshells.

"Everything."

"Everything?"

She sighed, and he knew what must come. "I don't know, it all just sort of came together."

"I'm asking you _how you did it_, Jet." Her tone was critical now. "Did it start as some stupid game? Did you think it was a pathetic _joke_? Do you enjoy messing with people's heads, specifically mine?"

"Well, yeah," he admitted, and she glared harshly over her shoulder at him. "It did start off as a joke. And I never intended to wind up in the desert because of it, or end up. . . liking you."

"Once again," Azula sighed, and waved a dramatic, sarcastic hand in the air. "Make up your mind."

His brow furrowed. "I'm sorry. I really am."

Azula noticed that he was sincere. "What. . ." She tried to sound kind, or at least curious. His temper was just as volatile as hers. "What else did you do?"

Jet looked at her apprehensively. He hesitated to tell her—who knew what she could do with this information? Well, certainly not any more damage than stranding them out in the desert. He pressed on. "The cards I got from Bee. She works at Hallmark, and gave me a discount. You know, the girl in the yellow sundress? Yeah. That's Bee. She's one of my best friends."

Azula listened silently.

"And then, do you remember the day the roses fell out of the sky?" he asked. "Longshot said that he'd throw them from the school roof for me."

Still, Azula was silent.

"The shirt thing was totally Zuko's idea. I just did it for kicks," he chuckled, but it was plain to see that Azula found no humor in it. In fact, the joke had quite the opposite effect. Jet felt ashamed again. "Sorry. I didn't mean to get you upset."

She seemed to ignore his apology as she asked, "What about the roses?" Azula was truly interested to hear about them. "I had thought they were coming from Haru, but you. . ."

"Haru hired me part-time at the garden, so I got 'em for free. Pretty smooth, huh?"

Azula wasn't impressed. "And how did you know where I was all the time? Are you some kind of. . . professional stalker?"

Jet laughed nervously. "No, but I can say that I got to know you more than anyone else. It's why I guess I kinda. . . like you, now. That, and I got to see more, if you know what I mean."

She glared harshly at him for his rude innuendo. He held up his hands. "Kidding, kidding."

Azula went back to the issue. "And the thorns? Why did you leave them on?"

"It cost more to cut them off."

"Really?"

"Yeah. And like I told you, I'm running low on cash."

"I thought you had a job."

"I do, but I gotta use my paychecks to fix this damn hole in my kitchen wall. My foster parents are going ballistic over it."

"What happened?"

"I punched it."

"That was rather stupid," Azula commented, thinking of her brother. "Why?"

"I was pissed off."

"About what?"

"About you." Jet sat heavily on the car's hood beside her, head drooping. "It was a stupid reason too."

"Are you still. . . mad about it?" Azula didn't know whether she wanted to press the issue or not. It could result in him exploding again.

"Nah." Jet shook his head. "I was just pissed that you were going out with Chan, and I couldn't even understand why I was jealous."

This actually got a snicker out of her. "He's such a _jerk_."

"That's an understatement," he agreed, chuckling, the tension seeming to finally ease.

Another silence passed, and again it was awkward, but not because of the cold facades and lack of interpersonal connection. It was awkward because now there were no cold facades, and there _were_ interpersonal connections—the kind that Azula had never quite imagined herself in, especially that day long ago in history class when she had first gotten the roses. It was messed up, it was insane, and it was strangely. . . right.

"You know what's funny?" Azula asked while Jet was staring at the midnight sky.

"What?" he replied, turning to her.

"I've been thinking about some things. . . like, maybe this could work."

"And why do you say that?"

"Because quite frankly," Azula said, there was a peculiar flutter to her voice, as if she was not used to talking in such a manner. "A part of me has been wondering what it would be like to. . . to kiss you."

"Again," he added. It took a moment for Azula to remember that he had kissed her before in the garden. She blushed.

"Yes. Again."

"Well, I'm here. Go ahead."

He smiled charmingly and closed his eyes, respecting her. Azula carefully scooted close, even though he could see her, and brushed her lips with his. She shivered when he raised his hand and placed it on her shoulder, trying to relax her. He was inclined to deepen the kiss when she tilted her head, when she was actually pulling away.

"I'm sorry," she apologized quickly, nervously. "I can't do this."

Jet pulled back. "We can take it slow."

"No. My father will—"

"Don't think about your father." He laid that hand on her shoulder again. "You say that you can't stop thinking about me. And I can't stop thinking about you. Just focus on that, and you'll be fine."

Azula nodded, and went in for the kiss again. This time he stretched his arm to cup her head behind her ear, gentle and encouraging. He felt her arm become stiff and rigid, like ice, robotically moving and unsure of what to do. Carefully and lovingly he guided her hand to his shoulder so she had something to grab onto, and he felt it clutch down for security. It was only then, did she relax.

"Can I ask you a favor?" she asked when they broke away.

He smiled warmly. "Anything you want, babe."

"Well for one, _don't_ call me that in public," Azula chided. He chuckled. "I'm serious."

"All right, all right. Whatcha need?"

"I was. . . call me childish for this, but, I was wondering if we could look at the stars. Together."

Jet cocked his head amusingly. "Whatever you like."

They reclined on the convertible's hood and windshield, faces tilted up at the constellated heavens.

"You comfy?" Jet asked, as she laid down on his arm, using it as a pillow.

"Yes."

They even watched the sunrise together.

* * *

* * *

**Author's Note: **OOCness abound, I fear. . . You tell me. But I think I covered everything. If not, I'll certainly go back and edit it. Also, I do plan an epilogue - I had one written out, but didn't like it, and changed my mind. I'm in the middle of that right now :D


End file.
